


Oceans of Time

by avoireemi



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 17th Century America, Alternate Dimensions, Fluff, Historical AU, Implied homophobia, M/M, Sharing a Bed, They're 17 and stupid, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29464245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoireemi/pseuds/avoireemi
Summary: Two different dimensions, one feeling crossing both of them. Two different hearts, one feeling uniting both of them.[DNF]
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Oceans of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first work for Dreamnotfound, and if George or Dream express any discomfort with this type of work, I will take it down :] Enjoy!!
> 
> **Based upon the track, Oceans of Time by John D. Boswell

Smoke billowed from the house chimneys, as farmers shuffled across the fields, some of them scratching their heads in confusion at the dust rising in the air in one of the corn rows. Summer of 1675 filled the air with a ripe, musty scent; sweeping across the countryside. One of the farmers, an aging man with a questionable number of scars stepped forward to the disturbance, eyebrows raised and mouth set in a deep line.

The cause of the dust and racket turned out to be a pair of 17 year old boys, shoving each other down and laughing mischievously at the soiled clothing. The mirthful atmosphere ceased immediately the moment the two caught sight of their adoptive uncle. The rest of the farmers had a mixture of annoyance and resigned looks on their faces. Uncle Benjamin stepped forward, his voice booming,

"And what, pray, are you two doing here?"

One of the boys, a head taller with untamed dirty blonde hair perked up, responding sheepishly,

"We were uh, inspecting the fields uncle."

The uncle, eyebrows furrowed, clearly did not believe him, for the soiled and dirtied clothes spoke for themselves. But it had been a long day, and the rest of the men had already gone back, used to the childish tactics of the two. So he let them off with a frown, shaking his head in warning. The smaller boy, with his dark brown mop of hair always seemed afraid and guilty for the mayhem they had caused, but was always dragged into another mess caused by his wild friend.

Both of them had been adopted by Uncle Benjamin when they were merely toddlers, as famine dogged the countryside, forcing families to leave behind children they could not afford anymore. The boys, Clay and George, grew up close yet refused to refer to each other as brothers. Uncle Ben, however, was adamant, babbling nonsense about the "Christian blood and brotherhood", thus even though they complied with his wishes in front of him, they privately agreed that being brothers really was just a social construct in their case.

There was, however another reason why they refused to call each other brothers, a reason that dated back to when they were idiotic 15 year olds. As children living in the same household, they lived and laughed together, caused chaos together, did everything together. Until they didn't. When accidental touches would cause thrilling tingles, and warm fond glances would last a little too long. And hearts yearned, yearned frantically for each other.

After months of awkward stiff communication, they agreed that the title of "brothers" was too constricting and caging. Yet the real reason remained unspoken between them, for they could not even fathom a love of their kind, of their type, between two boys. It seemed so unreasonable, so unbelievable, and filled with uncertainty and fear. But the admittance that they were not really brothers eased some of the tension. Yet the longing stares when no one was looking remained. And, if in the middle of the night, one of the two clambered out of his bed into the other's, they spoke nothing of it.

And mornings always started earlier for them than their uncle, for they would sit up alert and afraid of being caught, even in their innocent embraces. It took a great deal of planning and awareness, for they lived in a time where the smallest of touches could get them flamed. And yet they could not stop, not stop the subconscious intertwining of hands, or the bumping of foreheads among silent giggles in the shade of the night.

On that particular day, they had gotten into a tiny squabble over obscene words, giggling over things their uncle would have given them a proper lashing for. And it had ended in George pushing his blonde friend away, causing him to topple into the tall cornrows, snapping some of them. And thus ensued their shoving and fits of laughter.

As Uncle Ben made his way out of the fields, the two dusted their clothes in a frenzy, hurriedly cleaning up the mess they had created. As the sun dipped in its silent glory, George was fixing his hair and turning away when Clay grabbed his elbow, planting him firm in his spot.

"Don't go just yet. It's gonna be one of those clear nights." Clay mumbled, eyes on the horizon.

George understood him, understood his thought process as the first stars emblazoned the sky, bright and twinkling happily.

They watched in comfortable silence, standing side by side, a million thoughts racing in their minds. 

George opened his mouth to speak, but the other boy took his hand and led him out of the cornrows silently, heading in the direction of the meadows behind their house. As they hurried through, George caught a glimpse of Uncle Ben through their house windows, his head reclined on the moth eaten sofa, eyes half closed with fatigue. And he silently thanked the day-long work for sending his uncle to sleep earlier than usual.

They stepped into the middle of a grass meadow, a light breeze ruffling the blades under the soft moonlight. Clay immediately fell down onto the grass, letting out a delighted gasp at the surprising coolness. George quickly followed suit, laughing under his breath at the other's barely stifled wheezes.

"Didn't expect the ground to be so cold huh." George huffed out, playing with the astray strands of his hair.

"Definitely not, the sun barely went down George!" he exclaimed in mock surprise, earning another quiet laugh from the other.

They settled into another comfortable silence, watching the stars slowly rise out of the horizon, slow dancing their way up-head. Minutes stretched into hours, and their breathing slowed, almost onto the edge of sleep, when George suddenly whispered:

"Clay? Are you awake?"

Immediately came the reply, albeit a little hushed:

"Yeah, I am. Why??"

George took a deep breath, willing the stars to give him the strength for this. His voice lowered to another whisper as he spoke,

"Have you.. Have you ever loved a girl?"

The blonde was silent for a few dreadful moments, in which George's heart refused to calm down in it's frenzy.

"I don't think I have actually. All the schoolboys say otherwise though."

The brunet let out a soft sarcastic snort "Yeah, isn't that what's expected of us."

"Hmm, I guess."

Terse silence.

George lifted an arm, fingers tracing the constellations he could recognize. Lost in thought, he missed the secretively longing stare the other cast him, eyes roaming over his face, from the tip of his nose to his soft lips, pulled into a cute frown.

Clay broke the silence this time, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"I have loved though, loved someone a lot. For a very long time."

George didn't respond immediately, but felt the soft slotting of fingers in his own, hands intertwining tightly. Feeling his heart race faster, he cursed it out and whispered,

"You have?"

"Mhm. It's a very consuming feeling, loving someone I mean."

George secretly hated himself for asking such a damned question, for he did not know whether the complete answer to it would dissolve whatever sanity he maintained or slap the giddy feelings in his chest away. Battling his inner turmoil, he spoke out,

"In what way, Mister Lovebird?"

The blonde snorted at the nickname, his green eyes almost disappearing in a humongous eye roll.

"It's…It's not something I can explain easily. You just" he sat up, turning over to George, startling him a bit, "You just want to give them the world. And it feels like, anything you do, anything you say.. It's never enough, ever." He dipped his head a bit, a shy yet teasing smile directed at his friend, "Y'know how everything is unknown out there, how we don't even know if this world if flat or round? That’s what it feels like. So uncertain, so wrong, yet so right."

George let out an anxious laugh, averting his eyes from the very open and vulnerable stare directed at him.

"When was love supposed to feel wrong Clay?"

His friend raised his eyebrows at that, speaking with a huff, "Well, I don't think it's wrong, it's what society says. And I don't give a fuck I guess."

George stilled, the implications hanging heavy in the air. He felt brave, something he had not felt in a long time, when it came to whatever feelings were blooming between them. He looked back into his eyes, holding them steady, searching for the answer he wanted so badly, "And why do you love this person so much, I wonder?"

"Well, to be fair," Clay began, softly grabbing George's chin, "They're really really pretty. And the stars could dance in their eyes and still not be as mesmerizing. And they're so fucking dumb, always terrified of consequences, always holding back, always pulling away, and y'know what?" he bit out, leaning even closer, almost ghosting his lips, "I'm sick of it George."

The George in question could feel his mind slowly dissolving, his self control tethering on an edge. He felt like he was dancing among the flames of hell, along-with his adamant yet endearing friend. Friend.. Were they really friends? Brothers? Had they ever been anything of that sort? He couldn't recall. To him, it felt like the devil himself blessed them with the most scandalous yet beautiful curse, a love so deep that could never be set in stone. How ironic, he thought.

"Well what do you want this person to do then? Maybe they're just afraid." he closed his eyes, taking a dangerous leap and leaning in, feeling the others lips fully on his own, gasping half from shock and half from relief. The fireworks behind his eyes illuminated every single part of his being, filling him up with something more addictive than any drug. He couldn't stop, God he couldn't stop, even though he knew it was wrong-

"Afraid of words spoken by someone else, rules made by someone else?" Clay whispered, before deepening the kiss, giving George no chance to respond. The fear was not gone but it would reside temporarily, letting passion and held back feelings take control, as their lips moved rhythmically beneath the diamond adorned sky. It was so achingly beautiful, a broken love no one would accept, yet it couldn't stop, not even time's timelessness could take it away.

As they broke apart, smiling softly, George mumbled,

"Well, I guess the person isn't afraid anymore huh."

Clay broke out in a stifled fit of laughter, arms on either side of his friend's head, trying to form a coherent sentence before giving up.

The brunet rolled his eyes and mock punched his stomach, trying to push him off. He complied, rolling to his side, staring back at the stars with eyes filled with mirth. His smile refused to fade, and George's wouldn't either. The atmosphere between them had lightened even more than when they had mutually agreed to not think of each other as brothers.

Together, their hands entwined again, they watched the calm of the night. For the final time in that night, the blonde spoke out,

"Y'know what George?" George turned to looked at him, curious. "What?" Clay's smile grew wider and fonder, looking into the distance with a feeling etching deeper than space itself,

"I think I'll love that person forever and ever, across every dimension, across oceans of time."

*************

"DREAM STOP!" George screamed, his Minecraft character scurrying away from the oncoming series of punches from a hideous green blob.

The man in question continued wheezing, showing no signs of stopping his attack on the former. George groaned in annoyance as he ran across the landscape, evading obstacles. He felt even more irritated as the chat on his stream supported Dream's assault on his character.

Right at that moment, a donation popped on the screen, catching George's attention. The question made him laugh quietly, stopping his character's run in the middle of a plains biome.

"Hey Dream, this donation is asking if you've ever really loved someone." George huffed out, raising his eyebrows in exaggeration and suspense.

Dream's quiet but fond laugh echoed through the headset, followed by a silent sigh only George could hear. It made him tingle in a weird way, and he shook his head to dislodge the feeling.

"Well, I would say I have in the past, and I definitely do, right now."

George raised his eyebrows even further, trying to get out a definitive answer.

"Ooooh well who would that be Dream?"

Dream let out a laugh in response, his character appearing behind George's and continuing his series of punches. "Shutup, you're such an idiot."

"Pretty sure I'm not the one leaving the viewers hanging in suspense Dreamie poo." George barked out, proud of his comeback.

"Yeah yeah, I don't owe anyone a response but y'know what George?" His voice dropped at the end, almost fond and private. The tingles resumed, making the brunet feel like a deer caught in headlights.

"I think… I think I'll love that person forever, across every dimension, across oceans of time."


End file.
